Bats in the Attic
by Yemi Hikari
Summary: In his youth, he was Robin before Nightwing with a defined direction and purpose in life. In adulthood, said purpose disappeared along with certain memories. Lost is the memory regarding what happened between youth and adult hood. Lost are the memories regarding what happened to Jason. Lost are so many things. In an attempt to find himself, Grayson comes back. (Open Novella 2018)
1. Secreted Away

_Disclaimer – I don't own Batman, Batman Beyond or Young Justice. This was written for Wattpad's Novella challenge, which I'm trying to still hit the 20k mark, but also have my fingers crossed that this will be under 40k. I picked the prompt about finding a love letter in the attic but not remembering where it came from. This works with my alternate origin for Terry McGennis_

 **Bats in the Attic**

Taking a deep breath, Dick Grayson wondered if he would ever make sense of the fog in his head, let alone the lack of purpose in his life. Sitting on top of his motorcycle, his bright blue eyes stared out at the city, attempting to take in the city he'd not seen in more than a year, as he attempted to make sense of his chaotic life.

Everything started a little over a year ago, maybe two, when Dick found himself waking up in a hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling bleary-eyed, his mind wondering where Bruce was. A slight turn of his head revealed Bruce Wayne nowhere in view, but Alfred Pennyworth, the faithful family butler sat in the chair next to him. He remembered taking a deep breath, and how people rushed in to see how he was doing.

Bruce didn't come, nor did Dick get any real answer regarding why he ended up in the hospital.

Alfred proved shut mouthed about the whole thing, particularly after Dick responded to something the butler said. Alfred's reaction clued the young man into the fact his own behavior was perceived as strange, but even Barbra acted in a cautious manner when she came to see him. She chose her words carefully, as if not to give something away.

Therapy proved painful.

For someone as active as a Flying Grayson, the thought of living with a permanent physical disability was terrifying. The coma also distorted Dick's sense of time. All throughout the therapy, the man who chased away Dick's childhood fears was nowhere to be seen. Bruce finally showed up when the hospital finally chose to release their patient.

The meeting between the two proved awkward. The man couldn't look his ward in the eye, but Dick couldn't ask the important question. " _What did I do? What did I do to make you angry at me? To make it so you don't want to talk to me? Is it that I never, ever called you father, or something far worse?_ "

Dick didn't stick around to see if Bruce would offer an answer, as the manor proved at the time an uninviting place. However, the attempt to find some purpose away from Gotham proved fruitless. Almost as fruitless and painful as Jason's death felt. Dick's eyes squeezed shut, frustrated that for some reason he couldn't remember how his younger brother died, only that said death was met with Bruce's usual coldness.

Revving up the engine, Dick's bike roared to life, and he proceeded to the place he hoped never to come back to, and yet running from one's fear – that was the cowards way out, and Flying Grayson's weren't cowards. He arrived at Wayne Manor, parking his vehicle in a place he hoped wouldn't be noticed, and removed his helmet.

The manor contained memories, both good and bad.

Taking a deep breath, his bright blue eyes looked up at the towering buttresses of Wayne Manor, noting how nothing had changed since he left. The young man attempted to sort through his memories, both remembered and forgotten, only to find his mind hitting a mental wall he'd struggled to get past ever since coming out of the coma. His arm wrapped around his motorcycle helmet, his lips pushing together, unsure of how to approach the place.

He didn't want to see Bruce, yet…

"Master Richard." Alfred's voice drew Dick's bright eyes away from the buttresses to the front door. The Wayne family butler stood at the entrance, as if expecting him, but then again, motorcycles weren't known for being quiet. The man's next words weren't expected either. "Welcome home."

"Home." Dick looked up at the walls again, trying to fixate on the idea of home. The feeling made him wonder why he'd ever left, yet that particular memory remained missing, beyond the mental wall the coma constructed. Taking a deep breath, Dick allowed his bright blue eyes to drift down, looking straight at Alfred in what was likely a nervous manner. "I don't know how long I'm staying."

"Master Richard."

Dick opened his mouth, wanting to say something about how awkward the situation felt, yet there seemed no reason to do so. The idea of approaching Bruce, regarding what happened, simply didn't set well "How does one fix things when one can't remember?"

"Perhaps coming home will help you remember, and staying away was the problem?" Alfred turned to go inside the manor, glancing back as he did. "Will you be dining with the family tonight?"

"What?" Dick's eyes blinked, the cogs in his mind attempting to figure out why Alfred used the words he did. Outside of Jason and Alfred, there were no other family members. Alfred didn't eat meals with the family, and Jason was…

Jason was dead.

So, had Bruce married?

Doubtful, as Bruce was still Gotham's most eligible bachelor the last time Dick checked the news. Batman was in the news, as was his sidekick Robin. There were no announcements regarding impending nuptials. Still…

"I think I'll skip. Particularly since I'm just here to look through the things I asked you to save for me." A wave of panic set in, as Dick wondered if the things in question were indeed saved. "Wait. He didn't…"

"Master Bruce would never have me throw away your things. Why would you think that?"

Dick felt his jaw tense up as he entered the front entrance, taking in the cold greys of his childhood here. They reminded him of Jason's death, but of the fact, he and Bruce weren't talking. Even in here, things hadn't changed.

"Master Richard?"

"Sorry. I just…" Dick took a deep breath. He couldn't look Alfred in the eye.

"Could you possibly not tell Bruce that I'm here. I mean, that I was here. I'm leaving before he gets back from the office, so I'll be no bother. I just want to try and figure out things, like what to do with my life. My own place that isn't here."

"While it may seem like it, Master Richard, you aren't alone." Alfred headed up the stairs in the foyer. "As requested, I saved your things, although Master Bruce was not happy."

"And you said he would never throw out any of my things." Dick followed, looking down into the foyer as he walked up the stairs. The family butler's words sounded hollow suddenly, an attempt to give false hope.

"You misunderstood."

Alfred didn't explain what this misunderstanding was. Instead, they journeyed down the long hallway to the attic. A quick glance at the study and Dick saw the familiar clock that for some reason Bruce never fixed. A memory of why simply refused to break through, as the glimpse was brief. Instead, they headed up the creaking stairs of the attic, the door creaking with the same gusto.

Darkness surrounded him until Alfred pulled the chain attached to the light. The entire area lit up, including the wardrobes containing the clothes of Bruce's dead parents, part of a forgotten era. Fitting it was, that his own things ended stored up here, part of what seemed like another forgotten era.

Alfred led him over to a corner, near where Dick remembered Jason's things being. Except, they were no longer there, worsening his fears regarding approaching Bruce.

"Would you like any help finding what you're looking for, Master Richard?"

"No. I think I can find it myself." Dick took a deep breath. "Whatever I'm looking for."

"Let me know when you're finished."

"Sure thing."

Dick opened up the top box – a box of books – when he thought Alfred was gone, giving him the privacy he wanted. Dick froze, seeing the yearbook on the very top. Cracking the book open, he saw notes from various people, including Barbra Gordon.

" _Says Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, one of your favorite poets, 'every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.' I think you know without me saying what is meant by this, regarding you and Bruce._ "

Taking a deep breath, Dick lifted up the book, wondering if he should take his old friend's advice. Talking to Bruce, finding out what when wrong in their relationship, even though the thought terrified him. The fear of rejection, of not being good enough lingered, despite knowing where this stemmed from. One could though explain Bruce's cold actions, as they were closely tied to sadness. As a young child, the man lost his parents. As a father, he lost one of his sons.

Plus, so many other things, some that Dick didn't remember. " _Including your relationship and what happened. You owe him that much, for taking you in._ "

Dick turned slightly, thinking seriously about staying and approaching Bruce despite wanting to avoid the family dinner, only to bump into another box, knocking it to the ground. Dick grimaced, noticing the letters spread out on the ground. Kneeling down, he set the yearbook to the side, picking up a stack. A smile spread across his face.

Alfred kept even the letters from high school. They ranged from love letters from girls with unrequited crushes to sweet nothings from his current girlfriend of the kind. Dick sat, going through each one, relishing the memories which came with each one. Once he moved into his own place, catching up with his classmates seemed like a nice idea.

Only, one letter caught his eye.

Dick's fingers lingered over the letter, the handwriting and everything about it something he didn't remember. The young man's lips pushed together, confused as to who sent it, let alone what the letter contained. There was no name on the front. Opening up the letter, the paper crinkled in his hand. His bright eyes blinked, reading the letter carefully, not just once, but a few times.

 _Hi,_

 _I'm not sure how to begin my letter, beyond the fact you're likely surprised I, of all people, am writing you a letter to you. Particularly after I said that night meant nothing to me, and yet it meant a whole lot to you. There's something important I need to talk to you about. Something regarding that night that you need to know._

 _Huntress_

Dick frowned, wondering how this letter happened to end up in the pile of high school love letters. Closing his eyes, the young man leaned back, wondering what important thing he wasn't remembering, let alone whether he ever found out. Looking up at the ceiling of the attic. Dick sat there, wondering what else he'd forgotten.

The letter…

…whatever Bruce and he argued about…

…the reason why the clock never got fixed…

… why and how Jason died…

… and who knew what else.

So many things lay forgotten in that mind of his, forgotten behind the mental wall in his head. One knee pulled up as Dick let out a sigh, his shirt streaked now with the dust covering the rest of the attic and everything else forgotten and pushed away from where nobody could see. Swallowing, Dick thought back to the quote Barbra left him. " _We call a man cold when he is only sad._ "

Perhaps Bruce wasn't the only reason why things turned out the way they did between the two of them.

The door to the attic creaked open, and Dick heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Despite the fact these footsteps didn't sound like Alfred's, the young man didn't look away from the ceiling, the golden light cascading around as the depressed feeling wouldn't go away. Even when the steps came closer, he didn't move from the spot.


	2. Befuddlement

**Bats in the Attic  
** _ **Bedfuddled**_

The word " _befuddle_ " seemed like the best word to describe his current mental dysphoria, as his bright blue eyes recognized the person in front of him. Dick swallowed, the cogs in his head trying to figure out the inconsistencies running through is mind.

Particularly, one of the certainties running through his head regarding his past lay in the fact he knew Jason was dead, yet right there in front of him, Jason stood, his hands shoved into his pockets, his jaw set in that firm stubbornness Dick felt only possible from the person in front of him. The glint of mischief in his eyes also screamed the Jason in front of him was most certainly alive.

"Jason?" The name came out of Dick's throat strained, his fingers deftly folding the letter shut before shoving the object inside the pocket of the jacket he wore, hoping the person in front of him didn't see said action. Further words refused to come out of his mouth, his eyes blinking at the all to physical ghost in front of him.

"Hey, Dickie Bird. Long time no see." Jason seemed calm. "I guess from the way your mouth is open, you're a bit surprised to see me?"

Again, Dick's bright blue eyes blinked, but his mouth continued to open and close like a fish until he actively made the decision to look away from the other young man. He took a deep breath, trying to form some kind of thoughts in his head, but also words in his mouth. Dick also moved to stand up, feeling the situation got rather uncomfortable. "Um, Jay..."

"I get it. I'm a mess. Always have been, so you were surprised to see me when I hate dad so much actually makes sense." Dick swallowed, the confusion in his mind remaining. His eyes narrowed, noting Jason referred to Bruce as _dad_ rather than the man's first or last name. His mouth also hung open, making his confusion rather evident. Dick watched Jason's eyes blink. "It's something else. Almost like I've got a booger sticking out of my nose making me look like an idiot."

"It's not that." Dick felt his breath his out between his teeth, his anxiety evident at least to himself. His hand shot up in a defensive manner, palm out, his bright blue eyes avoiding direct eye contact when he said the next sentence. "Well, sort of. It's..." The young man drew air into his lungs deeply. "How to put this..." A thought crossed his mind. "I'm just a little confused."

"A little confused?" Jason's voice remained calm. "I'm the one who's confused. I don't see you for months, and..."

"What?" Dick's chest tightened, his confusion growing even more.

"What do you mean what? For some reason, you got it through that thick skull of yours that you wanted nothing to do with us, and took off for over a full year. This is me trying to be civil about the whole thing."

The tone Jason used, Dick recognized as the first sign of frustration from said individual. "That's not..." Swallowing, he slowed his speech. "That's not what I meant. I'm just a tad ... caught off guard."

"Look, Alfred's going to have dinner ready soon, and you know how he is about us being late for meals unless we've got a good reason, so why don't we head downstairs and join the rest of the family? You can tell me what kind of mods you've done to that sweet ride of yours."

Quickly grabbing the yearbook from the top of the box, Dick found himself following close behind Jason, his confusion growing. On top of calling Bruce " _dad_ ", Jason used the word " _family_ " just like Alfred did earlier. His bright blue eyes looked at the wall instead of Jason's back. "I don't know if I'm staying."

"What do you mean you don't know if you're staying?" The stairs to the attic creaked under the feet of the two young men. Jason stopped at the bottom, looking up at Dick who still stood on the stairs. His eyes narrowed in irritation, a look quite similar to the one Jason gave him when Bruce's other ward said something about _being_ civil. " _What_ did you mean by that?"

Dick's bright blue eyes avoided eye contact, his mouth opening slightly, allowing a pause of silence before he started speaking. "It's complicated. I'd rather not go into it."

"Whatever." Jason turned, continuing down the hallway. The tone of voice Jay used indicated frustration, possibly, but also the other young man's dour outlook on life. Dick looked at the ground, his hands shoving into the pockets of his jeans in the same manner as Jason. The obvious disappointment in the voice of the other sent a shudder down Dick's spine, reminding him of the _reason_ he avoided coming home.

He'd disappointed Bruce, and now Jay.

A silence fell between the two as each took a few more steps, unable to say anything in the thick atmosphere created by communication breakdown. Dick's eyes looked at the walls of Wayne manner, not noticing any physical change to the place, yet in the back of his mind, something told him the world he saw wasn't the world he remembered.

Thoughts of the letter flickered through his mind, and his mouth opened, words slipping out unbidden. "Do you know who Huntress is?"

Jason stopped walking, making Dick nearly collide with him from behind. A silence fell between the two, before Jay turned to look at Dick, his mouth pressing into a frown. "You, of all people, are asking who the Huntress is?"

Dick found himself making eye contact, finding himself befuddled even more. Plus, he noticed Jason was taller than him. He found himself speaking after a pause speaking in a rather hesitant manner. "Yes?"

"Yeah. If you of all people don't know who she is, how do you expect me to know?" Jay's eyes narrowed, indicating a slight irritation. "Please tell me you haven't been gone for over an entire year pursuing a girl?"

"I... uh..." Dick's bright blue eyes blinked, his lips pressing slightly together. "Um, maybe?"

"Oh, Dickie. Seriously. Of all the stupid things..." Jason stopped short as a door opened, and a young man Dick didn't recognize stepped out. The young man turned to look at him, his eyes blinking, his mouth opening slightly. Jason's focus seemed to shift away from Dick just as the door to the room next door also opened, another young man stepping out.

"What stupid thing did he do?" The first piped up. "And when did he get back?"

Dick watched the younger of the two stranger's eyes widen, almost as if in excitement, before the small figure who came out of the second room hurried over to greet him. "Richard."

He felt the corner of his mouth twitch slightly, as the boy in front of him called him by his full name rather than his nickname. Jason sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes closing. "Uh. What stupid thing did Dickie Bird do? Like, when doesn't something stupid he does not involve a girl?"

The older of the two-young man let his mouth form a circle. "Oh. Which one is it this time?"

Dick felt his stomach lurch, his facial features twisting up, the thought of _becoming_ like Bruce crossing his mind. A memory of his annoyance at all the females attempting to seduce Gotham's most eligible bachelor, but also using his young ward to do so crossed his mind, making him cringe. Jason shrugged his shoulders, acting indifferent to the situation. "Huntress. He's been pursuing Huntress for over a year."

"Say what!" The older of the two seemed rather off-put by the mention of the Huntress.

Dick attempted to glance away, only to catch the look from the kid. The look was one which could kill, but the young man couldn't help but feel the murderous intent coming from the young man. The word "replaced" flickered through his mind as he looked down at the riled up preteen, or maybe the person was a very young teen.

" _Not_ the Huntress. Not her of all people! I'd rather you date Cat..." The boy paused, almost as if he said something wrong, changing his train of thought. "Poison Ivy, than _her._ "

"Uh..." The young man felt his throat tighten, his confusion growing. In his confusion, words slipped out of Dick's mouth again. "Who are you two?"

Jason visibly tensed up, his head turning to look over his shoulder at Dick, while the two strange youth's eyes widened in horror. The youngest's eyes narrowed, his small arms crossing his chest in defiance. He let out a sound of irritation, which made Dick grimace. "Very funny Richard Grayson. You know who I am. I am Damian Wayne."

"I've got to go." Dick felt his teeth against his bottom lip, his worry growing as he headed to the front hall. From behind, he heard Jason let out a deep breath.

The older of the two strangers spoke up, panic in his voice. "Wait. What about dinner? You know how Alfred gets when we miss a meal unless we've got a good reason."

"I already told Alfred and Jason I'm not staying." Dick's eyes narrowed, realizing his tone of voice sounded cold. He couldn't look any of them in the eye, as he came closer to the front foyer. He looked down at the watch on his wrist, knowing full well Bruce wouldn't be home for quite some time, what with his work schedule.

"Little Wing, wait..." Jason's voice was unusually soft but sounded slightly worried.

Dick footsteps quickened, the urge to get out before Bruce got home from work building up. He heard footsteps behind him, his eyes narrowing due to only hearing two. Instinctively, his body wanted to react to the fact he knew three followed, but he heard only two, yet he fought back the urge and instead focused on the urge to get out of there.

Only to freeze upon reaching the foyer.

"Dick?"

Bruce stood at the bottom of the steps, home earlier than usual, staring up at his oldest ward with shock. Dick wasn't sure who was more surprised, Bruce or him, as he'd expected the man home much later, due to Wayne's work schedule. The young man felt his back tense up between his shoulders, and lower back.

Looking away, he found himself unable to make eye contact with Bruce, and instead started down the stairs in the foyer, unable to say a single word to the man who raised him after his parents died. He stopped in front of the man, his mouth opening, only to close, not wanting to delve into what he'd done to upset Bruce.

"Dick."

"Look, I just came for something of mine, and will be out of your hair." Glancing up from the floor, he saw Bruce's mouth open to say something, only Dick spoke quicker, again, not wanting to know what happened to make the man so disappointed in him. The world around him at that moment, it simply wasn't his world anymore. "I'm leaving, so sorry for intruding."

"In..." Out of the corner of his eye, Dick saw Bruce tense up as he walked past, heading for the front door of the manor. He couldn't see the look on the man's face right after, as the young man found himself heading through the door.

The front door clicked shut behind him, and Dick took a deep breath before moving towards his bike. With one hand, his fingers opened his satchel, slipping in the yearbook, before he swung his leg over the back of the motorcycle. The young man's hands reached for the helmet, only to stop short upon see the kid standing in front of him, his arms spread wide.

"Stop. You're not leaving Richard. You're staying." The boy's face scrunched up, making him look almost like a rather ugly pug. Dick grimaced at the face, his body tensing up. Glancing at the door, in the back of his head he found himself wishing Bruce would come out, only to see Jason instead.

The young man stood on the steps, watching rather unamused. Letting out a deep sigh, Jason finally started down the steps, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Come on Dames. Let Dickie Bird be."

"No." Dames continued to stand in front of the motorcycle, preventing Dick from leaving. "He can't leave."

A groan escaped Jason's lips, his long legs bringing him quickly over to the bike. "Dames, he's got his reasons for staying away."

"Don't care. We're a family, so why isn't Richard staying?" Damien's face twitched slightly, making his grimace look even more pug-like.

Dick took a deep breath. "Because I messed things up with Bruce, that's why." The other two didn't respond and instead stared. "What?"

Damien's head turned, his glare turning towards the manner before he took off. Jason watched, his mouth twisting with amusement. "Oh boy. The old man is going to get an earful from Dames. The thing is..." Jay turned to look Dick in the eye. The seriousness Dick saw in Jay's eyes made him flinch. "You and I both know you didn't do anything to mess things up with the old man."

"No. I did something. I had to of, else..."

"Yeah, you really did lose your memory, didn't you?" Jason's eyes darkened, his mouth pushing together into a deep frown.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dick glanced down at his helmet, which hung from one of the motorcycles bars. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you don't recognize Tim or Damien. And..." Jason took a deep breath, looking away. "... while I may not have a bugger in my nose, you did look at me as if you'd seen a ghost. Because I am one, aren't I? You recognized me, but in your mind, I should be dead."

"That..." Dick felt a chill run down his spine. He felt his hands begin to tremble, his eyes closing. "It's complicated Jay." Taking a deep breath, Dick decided to admit something else. "I don't even remember how you were supposed to have died."

"Wait. You don't remember?" Jason's voice strained. "Do you remember Batman and Robin?"

"Do I?" Dick's eyes sprung open. "Batman's the dark knight of Gotham, and Robin is his sidekick."

A whistling sound occurred as Jay took a short breath. "Wait? Did you just call Robin a sidekick?"

"Yeah, so what?"

" _That_ 's all you remember about Batman and Robin, Dick? That Robin is his sidekick?"

Dick's shoulder's shrugged. "I guess I could remember a couple of cases. And I could recollect some of the villains Batman dealt with over the years. But beyond that specifically, I'm not sure what you're wanting me to remember unless you mean they were involved. With what happened to you."

"Yeah. That's it." Jason's voice softened, yet sounded pain. "You might say it's because of Robin specifically that I'm finally home. Not Batman. Robin."

"Oh. Sorry I don't remember Jay."

"Why?" Dick frowned, glancing at his jacket pocket. He pulled the letter out, handing it over to Jason. "Found this among my stuff."

Jason opened the envelope up, his eyebrows shooting up as he read the letter. "Um, Little Wing... about this letter..."

"I was hoping you knew something."

"I told you, I don't know who she is." Jason frowned. " _You_ had a one-night stand with _her_?"

"You make it sound like a bad thing."

Jason shook his head, handing the letter back. "I'm just still trying to wrap my head around the idea."

"I'd better get going."

"Wait..."

"Jason, I'm not staying. No way you're going to try and talk me into staying."

"I'm not going to try." Jason shoved his hands into his pockets. "Dick. I've got to ask though. Do you have any plans? Beyond coming home to Gotham? Or are you homeless like I think you are?"

"Jay..." Taking a deep breath, Jason reached out for Dick's hand. Dick flinched, his entire body tensing up as Jason shoved some money into his hand. He swallowed, looking at the crumpled change. "Jay, I can't."

"You will. You will because you'd do the same for me, and have. If you need anything, call. I won't tell Bruce either. Just, don't shut us out. We're your family. And be careful. Gotham's not a safe place."

"I know. I can take care of myself."

"Seriously. Bruce would have a fit if he knew. Alfred as well."

"See you later."


	3. Phone Booth to Nowhere

**Bats in the Attic  
** _ **Phone Booth to Nowhere**_

In the same way the word "befuddle" seemed to fit his current mental state, the word "homeless" didn't seem like the right fit for Dick's situation, yet he didn't have the heart to correct Jason. The correct word for Dick's current situation was instead "transient".

His current choice in lifestyle for the past year, Dick wasn't sure if he could easily explain it to his brother who – prior to coming under Bruce's wing, lived with the fear of ending up homeless and on the streets. Not that Jason was likely to admit such a thing, yet it seemed the thought of Dick being homeless did, in fact, bother Jason.

The transient lifestyle, though, wasn't new. The circus, after all, was a transient lifestyle but felt like an honest home away from home due to Bruce's outright rejection of him around a year ago. Sometimes he scrounged and slept under the stars, but other times he bartered for a hot meal and a place to stay the night.

Yet, for some reason said lifestyle didn't fill the void left by the rejection he felt a year ago. Sometimes, for a brief moment, he felt good, after helping someone out, only for that feeling to fade after a day or two. He'd come home, running straight back to what he ran away from, only to find himself still running, unable to face Bruce's wrath.

A soft drizzle started down, and Dick pulled his motorbike to the side, having found one of the cities nicer bus terminals if one ignored the fact graffiti adorned the outside of the enclosed structure. This one had a phone booth, meaning someone could call in case of an emergency, which in Gotham proved a good thing.

Removing his satchel, and the key to the bike, he headed in where he could keep an eye on his bike, but also look up at the cloudy sky of Gotham city. A grey sky above wasn't a foreign sight in the bleak city, for while Wayne attempted to keep his factories clean, others did not. Dick's hands shoved into his pocket, taking a deep breath, glad the dirt and grime which normally covered Gotham city.

The fresh air reminded him what he liked about the transient lifestyle, the sense of adventure, and yet the thing he didn't like, the loneliness, that hit hard and fast. One part of him wanted to go crawling back to Bruce, begging the man to take him back, but the other part had a sense of prideful stubbornness combined by a fear of getting rejected again.

Letting out a sigh, Dick pulled out the yearbook, turning to read Barbara's quote. " _Says Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, one of your favorite poets, 'ever man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.' I think you know without me saying what is meant by this, regarding you and Bruce._ "

"Who better to talk about my current situation with?" Dick grimaced, not sure he wished to be on Barbara's scathing end of things either. Still, something felt better than nothing, and he found himself heading to the phone, hoping her current phone number was in the phonebook, but that the local gangs hadn't disconnected the phone booth.

He found himself lucky in both respects, and put some of the loose coins he'd either managed to scrounge before coming or that Jason gave him – Dick wasn't sure which, into the phone booth. The phone rang and rang, and for a moment he thought his old friend wouldn't pick up. And then, he heard it, the familiar voice. " _This is Barbra Gordon._ "

"Hi, Barb. It's Dick. Can we talk?"

A silence came from the other side of the phone, and it felt as if his heart stopped for a bit. Dick braced himself when finally, a sigh came from the other side. " _Dick, look. I'm kind of busy. You can't just call someone up like this, after taking off for over an entire year and expect for them to just drop anything._ "

"No. I got that. Is there any way we could meet up later?"

" _Dick, seriously. I'm running late for my date with my boyfriend, could we perhaps..._ "

"Boyfriend? I'd love to meet him. Who's the..." Dick found himself cut off before he could say, lucky guy. A shiver ran down his spine, as the drizzle of a rain brought a chill into the air. The streets of Gotham remained dreary.

" _Dick, I'm not sure I want to introduce my ex to my beau._ "

Dick's eyes blinked, the corners of his mouth twisting down as he shifted the phone to his other ear. The phone felt a little grimy, yet he didn't mind. "Wait. We dated?"

" _Very funny Dick. We went out for, like, a week, and I ended up being the only girl you ever dumped rather than the other way around because I drove you crazy. You said we should just be friends, but then you took off like you did, and nobody heard from you. So, I'm not exactly wanting to talk to you._ "

"Maybe later?" Dick swallowed, his eyes looking down at his black boots. The cement seemed a long way off.

" _I don't know. Sam and I are kind of, well, you know. Busy._ "

"I haven't been around for a year, so no." His bright blue eyes darted up to the ceiling. " _Longer than that, if one takes in my memory issues._ "

" _You should call Wally. I'm sure he'd love to talk, though I also think he'd chew you out for not speaking to him for over a year._ "

"Who?"

" _Oh, come on! He's like, your best friend. Anyways, talk to you later._ " The phone clicked off

Dick swallowed, unsure how to handle the situation. His eyes closed, trying to remember who Wally was, yet his mind simply decided not to work. Only, for the eyes to snap open upon remembering the yearbook. Walking over, he picked up the book, unsure of which year to look in for not only himself but this Wally.

Except, there was no Wally.

Dick knew because he flipped through the yearbook twice, and then three times.

There was no Wally.

Letting out a sigh, Dick looked up at the roof of the bus terminal, feeling ever so lost. He also felt cold, the urge to run back to Bruce and accept whatever lecture was coming his way fighting forth, only to know that getting rejected by the man might lead to a mental tailspin he couldn't easily return from on his own.

Picking up the book a fourth time, he went through, his eyes catching sight of the name Warren McGinnis. The name caught his attention before, yet for some reason, he knew Warren wasn't Wally as Wally wasn't Warren. Yet Warren had signed his yearbook that particular year, meaning Warren was somebody he knew.

Taking a deep breath, Dick tried the phone again, this time finding the phone number for Warren McGinnis. His finger hovered over the numbers, hesitant to call, remembering all to well how the call with Barbra went, as well as his trip back to the manor. Taking a deep breath, and working up his courage, he finally dialed the number, letting it ring.

His eyes closed tightly, hoping rejection wouldn't occur again. "Please answer. Please, please answer."

" _Hello. Warren McGinnis speaking. How may I help you?_ "

"Hi, Warren. I don't know if you remember me, but it's Dick Grayson." Dick's lips pushed together, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

" _Dick? Of course, I remember you. Why wouldn't I?_ " The voice sounded way to jovial.

Dick wanted to say, " _because I don't remember you_ ", yet held his tongue. He continued to rub the back of his neck in agitation, his eyes darting up to make sure nobody was touching his bike. "I don't know. Look, I know we've not spoken for more than a year, but would it be possible for us to talk?"

The other side of the phone went silent, and for a moment Dick thought they would hang up. He found himself sticking more coins in when the other voice spoke again. " _I'm meeting up with someone today, so..._ "

"I get it. You're busy."

" _No. I was thinking I could go to the place I'm meeting them an hour early. Sound good to you?_ "

"Um..." Dick's bright blue eyes blinked, taken slightly aback by the fact this person – who was a complete stranger to him – had no problems meeting up with him, unlike someone else he felt he could trust and rely on. "That's really okay with you? I mean, I did call at the last minute, and I get if it's an inconvenience and all."

" _Dick, I know you. When you ask to talk, it's because you need to. If you don't, well..._ " The other person paused, there chipper voice becoming suddenly dark.

"You're not going to finish that sentence, are you?"

" _I'd rather not._ " The other person's voice let out a sigh. " _Let's see. Let me get you the address, so we can meet up. It's this small diner, so let me treat you to a cup of coffee and maybe some pie._ "

"No, you don't need..."

" _Come on. I've not seen your smiling face for quite some time._ "

Dick hoped he could talk this stranger out of buying him a cup of coffee and the piece of pie. Why Warren wanted to, he honestly didn't know.


	4. Homey Diner

**Bats in the Attic  
** _ **Homey Diner**_

He almost didn't go.

Until he saw Jason, Dick somehow managed to remain blissfully aware of the fact he'd lost certain memories. The conversation with Barbara only provoked the unease of uncertainty created by the awareness of his amnesic state. He'd come back to Gotham to put the pieces together, not to have his world turned even more upside down.

Yet, for some reason, Dick also felt he should have known. After all, when he woke from the coma, there was a very distinct distortion regarding his sense of time. In addition, he couldn't remember what caused the friction between him and Bruce but chalked the entire situation up to him _not_ wanting to remember, not an inability to remember.

The familiarity of Warren McGinnis' name proved too enticing, and as such, he found himself at a rather nice diner. The place reminded him of the times the circus family found themselves piling into such a place, creating a major ruckus, only for the staff to find themselves pleased with the business brought in by Jack "Pappy" Haly and his ragtag family.

Bruce also brought him to this kind of place, in order to attempt some sort of father-son bonding which, in Dick's recollection never went well, or when it did, seemed to quickly come crashing down. Yet, those memories were firm in his head right now but provided much better musings than thinking of what he'd done to mess up with Bruce.

The waitress on duty hurried over, batting her eyelids at the handsome stranger in a rather flirtatious manner. Dick instinctively smiled as she attempted to lead him to a seat. Glancing around, he found the diner empty except for a couple chatting away, and a group of elderly females gossiping. His smile broadened when one of the old ladies winked at him.

Momentarily, Dick cursed his luck with the opposite sex, but let the over flirtatious waitress lead him to a booth, and he slipped into the red seats. "So, what can I get ya'."

"A glass of water and a cup of coffee for now. I'm waiting for someone." Glancing up at the clock, Dick noted he'd arrived early but noted that he could definitely afford a cup of coffee. Letting out a sigh, he leaned back, he closed his eyes, hearing the distinct click of the cup on the saucer, yet kept his eyes closed.

"So, could I, uh... possibly get your phone number."

Dick's eyes snapped open, his mouth twisting into a frown. He found himself unsure of how to handle the situation when another person's voice provided the necessary interlude. "I see you're still able to make the girls fall for you with little effort Grayson."

Turning his head, Dick saw the red-haired man grinning at him, and yet...

The man's eyes blinked, then pointed to his mustache. "You must not have recognized me because I grew a mustache."

"Yeah. I guess." Dick smiled, unsure of how to address the fact he didn't remember Warren at all. He watched the man slip into the booth. "I guess so."

"I see you started without me." Warren pointed at Dick's coffee, turning his head to the waitress. "I'm actually paying for him. Could you bring us another cup of coffee and a couple slices of your daily pie special?"

"Sure thing."

"Hold on." Dick's mouth opened to protest. "I didn't agree..."

"Not taking any arguments. It's the least you could do after taking off for more than an entire year and making every one of us worry." Warren let out a huff, folding his arms. "So..."

"Sorry." His bright blue eyes looked out the window. "Sorry for making you worry."

"Dick, something the matter."

"A whole lot of things are the matter." He continued to stare out the window.

In the window's reflection, he saw Warren frown. "From the look on your face, you've already been up to the manor, and the reaction you got wasn't good."

Dick's head turned. He began to worry his lip, wondering what he should say to this complete stranger. "Something like that."

Warren sighed, glancing away. "Well, I'm kind of not surprised. I don't expect any of your brothers to take you being gone for over an entire year well, but Mr. Wayne, he at least should have been quite pleased to see you."

"Please to see me?" Dick's voice strained, leading him to shake his head. "No. I was an intrusion. I left before we could have an argument about whatever I did to make him mad in the first place which led to this whole... mess."

He found himself looking out the window again and saw Warren turn back to look at him, the confusion evident in his eyes. "Hold on. Mr. Wayne isn't mad at you for anything. If anything, he's seemed genuinely worried about you."

Dick took a few minutes to process what Warren said, then turned his head. Someone decided to turn on the jukebox at that point, making the young man slide down in his seat, the red leather squeaking as he did so. He turned to look at Warren. "That doesn't mean I didn't do something to make him mad. He always gets worried after he calms down."

"Which means the two of you can and should talk things over if that's the case."

The pies came, and Dick found himself looking down at his slice in major disinterest. He pushed it away slightly. "That's great and all. The only problem is, I don't remember what I did, so I can't actually go begging him for forgiveness, can I?"

Warren's eyes widened, his hand reaching for his fork. "What do you mean you don't remember?"

"I just don't. I'm hoping someone else does, only to find out. Well, Jason's as clueless as I am, and insists I didn't do anything. Barbra's apparently dating someone and is too busy to talk. The only clue I have is it might have something to do with the coma I was in."

"Wait, _coma_?" Warren's voice strained, making Dick turn back to look at the other young man. He noted a distinct look of horror in the other's eyes. " _What_ coma?"

"What..." Dick's eyes blinked. "The coma I was in for an entire month, and woke up from about a year, year and a half ago. It's why I've not seen anyone in over a year. I needed to get my head together, particular after Bruce refused to see me after waking up."

"Dick, I don't think that coma was just for a month."

Dick's eyes blinked. The young man lifted his arms up to cross his chest, confused as to where Warren was going. "What do you mean by that?"

" _Grayson_ , nobody has _seen_ you in over two years. No, three." Warren set his fork down. "Dick, that means you were in a coma for more than a year."

"No. No. Bruce would have..." Dick swallowed, closing his eyes. "I must have done something really stupid."

"No. The person being stupid here is Mr. Wayne. I know you adore the man, but seriously..." Warren took a deep breath, before taking a deep drink of his coffee to calm down. He then set down his cup of coffee. "So, how'd you end up in a coma. Does it have anything to do with Nightwing?"

Dick's eyes blinked. "I don't know how I ended up in a coma, and who's this Nightwing?"

Warren spluttered, the coffee coming out of his nose, and drenching his mustache. "What? _You_ don't know who Nightwing is?"

"Why should I?"

"Because..." Warren took a deep breath. "Grayson, who's the heroes of Gotham?"

"Simple. Batman, and his sidekick Robin."

Warren choked again, this time not on coffee. "Did _you_ just call Robin a sidekick?"

"Well, yeah."

"Robin is Batman's _partner_! Partner!"

Dick stared at Warren in disbelief, then took a deep breath. "Okay. It's bad enough Gotham's masked vigilante is running around with a child sidekick and endangering his life, but to say that a child is an equal partner to a grown man is just plain absurd."

Warren's jaw dropped. "You're kidding me. Right?"

"No, I'm not." The young man crossed his arms in front of him, noting the look of shock on Warren's face. "Why do you think I am?"

"Uh, let's just say you always insisted they were partners in, like, _every single_ conversation we've had." Warren's eyes narrowed. "Wait. Do you actually remember when we became friends?"

"In high school, wasn't it?" Dick soon realized said the answer was wrong, as Warren's face fell. He looked away, knowing the secret he'd tried to keep was now out.

"No. In high school, I thought you were some dumb jock."

"You signed my yearbook."

"We were both in chess. It was kind of obligatory."

"Then how did we meet?" Dick took a deep breath.

"We were college roommates. And, your youngest brother tried to kill me in the middle of the night, but I'm guessing you don't remember that, do you?" Warren took a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry. I should have been honest about, well, the memory thing, but I didn't know how to bring it up without being..." Dick stopped speaking.

"Seriously. It's Mr. Wayne who's the idiot, what with not letting all of us who care about you know you were in a coma, but then letting you go off on your own for an entire year despite having amnesia."

"I can take care of myself." This time, when Dick looked out the window, the reflection he saw was his own. A young man with dark hair and vivid blue eyes looked back at him, yet there was that one thing he couldn't get away from. "After all, I'm just some _filthy_ gypsy trailer park circus trash." A sharp kick from under the table elicited a yelp, and Dick turned to look at Warren, who glared at him angrily. He let out a hiss as he leaned over to rub the sore spot. "What was _that_ for?"

"Don't you _dare_ talk about yourself like that! You know I hate you talking yourself like that! Or at least you would if you actually remembered we were friends and the time we spent with each other."

Dick swallowed, pushing himself up from his seat. "I'm sorry. I should have come. I'll pay for..."

Warren stood, grabbing Dick's arm. "Sit."

"Why. You said yourself..."

"The fact you _can't_ remember we're friends doesn't mean we _aren't_ friends. And I would be no friend if I let you walk out of that door, so sit."

Dick reluctantly sat, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know why when I'm filthy..."

" _Don't_ call yourself _that_ word." Warren hissed. " _You_ are the one who told me what kind of derogatory word that is, but that you're _Romani_ and proud of it."

"I don't see why me using the word matters since I am _Romani_." Dick glanced out the window, folding his arms across his chest.

"It matters because you're self-deprecating yourself. And..." Warren took a deep breath. "I'm your friend, so I know that you only ever use that word when you _are_ self-deprecating yourself, which means you're in a very dark place right now. I _know_ how you can get. Hell, even Wally knows, and it scares us."

"Wally..." Dick sighed. "Barbara said he's my best friend, yet I couldn't find him in our yearbook."

"That's because Wally didn't go to our school, but he's also two years ahead of us." Warren took a deep breath. "I could give him a call, and he'd be here..."

"Don't. I don't want to disappoint another person in my life simply because I can't remember them."

"You're not a disappointment." In the reflection, Dick saw Warren's eyes close. "Dick, I've got to ask. Do you have a place to stay right now? A job?"

"No. I don't." Dick took a deep breath. "But as I said..."

" _Don't_ use _that_ word for yourself." The front door jingled, indicating someone came into the place. In the reflection, Dick watched Warren startle, then swallow.

"What's Grayson doing here?"


	5. Mary Quite Contrary

**Bats in the Attic  
** _ **Mary Quite Contrary**_

"What's Grayson doing here?"

The familiar-sounding voice sounded irritated, drawing Dick's eyes up at the corner of his mouth twitched into an awkward smile, wondering what he'd done now to warrant such a tone. The voice indicated a female, and his mind wandered to the letter again, yet brushed it aside, noting the chances of finding the writer so easily were next to none.

Locks of short red hair framed the woman's face, yet for some reason, he found her familiar. A pretty face, he found himself falling for again. Warren also looked up at the same time, a frown spreading across his face. "Mary, what are you doing here so early?"

The woman opened her mouth, yet Dick found his tongue slipping yet again. "Mary?" For some reason, this didn't seem right. "Isn't your name Helena Kyle?"

Her eyes bored scathingly, it seemed, into his soul. Glancing away, Dick caught sight of a small figure hunkered at Mary's side, watching him carefully as he clutched a stuffed bat toy in his free hand. The vivid blue eyes of the child seemed familiar. Dick quickly brushed the feeling away as the toddler simply giving him a scowl which matched the woman who held tightly onto his hand. His mind also noted the boy appeared around two to three years.

Lifting his hand up, Dick waved at the boy. "Hi."

The boy buried his face into the woman's pants before Warren reached out. "Terry. Come here." With little effort, the boy swiftly climbed up in the long seat next to Warren, again diving into the man's side, looking at Dick cautiously. The man looked Mary in the eye. "Again, what are you doing here so early?"

"We have a problem, Warren."

Dick's eyes blinked, his eyes drifting between the three people. "Um..."

"She's my ex-wife."

"Warren."

"Right. We have a problem."

Dick started to stand up, finding himself rather nervous regarding the family situation. "I think I should be going."

"No. Stay." Warren lifted a hand up, beckoning Dick to stop moving. "Mary's early, so the least she can do is explain."

"It's called your obligated duty to provide childcare in order to keep custody of Terry fell through." Mary leaned against the table. "As such, I had to pick up Terry from her place before my visitation with him was supposed to occur."

"I'll talk to my mother."

"She's not going to budge." The woman took a deep breath. "Look, Warren. I'm not wanting to take Terry from you. You know that. But the conditions of the divorce state you'd make the arrangements for child care while we both work, otherwise..."

"I know. I know." Warren pulled Terry a little closer, rubbing the boy's shoulder. The boy's eyes were wide, and Dick pushed his uneaten pie towards the child, hoping to alleviate some of the anxiety the child likely felt.

"Grayson!"

Dick flinched, but Warren got a glint in his eye. "I know! Grayson!"

"What?" Where things were going, Dick wasn't sure he liked.

"I was asking you just before Mary showed up whether you have a place to stay, let alone a job."

Dick wasn't sure he liked where his friend was going with his train of thought, only for Mary's next comment to confirm his suspicions. "Wait. Are you actually suggesting that _Grayson_ be our child's nanny, let alone his live-in nanny?"

"Hold on..." Taking a deep breath did not do anything to subside the anxiety he currently felt, so he found himself glancing back at the window, worrying his lip as he did so.

"Well, it would solve everyone's problems, wouldn't it?" Warren began to drink his coffee in deeply, seeming quite pleased with himself.

"Warren! I've told you I don't want Wayne having anything to do with Terry! I've told you multiple times!"

"Wait." Dick felt his throat tighten. "Are you telling me Terry is Bruce's child?"

Yet again his tongue got the better of him. Warren reacted by choking on the coffee he was drinking. Mary, on the other hand, leaned in, forcing the young man to back up to the wall next to the winder, hunkering down as she grabbed ahold of the table top and the back of the seat. " _What_ did you say, Grayson?"

"Dick..." Warren's tone seemed to indicate some kind of warning to stop speaking, yet Dick Grayson's tongue couldn't stop.

"Isn't that why Terry looks like Bruce?" The tension running through his back was far from comfortable, yet his jaw also set as he watched her perpetual death glare bore into him.

"Is this some kind of joke, Grayson?" Her nose was inches now from his own, but worse, he felt somewhat masochistic at that very moment.

" _Come on Grayson. She's Warren's ex._ " Dick took a deep breath. "Joke?"

"Mommy mad?" Terry's voice drew his attention away from Mary, and he noticed two vivid blue eyes watching the scenario. Dick swallowed, wondering how the toddler in front of him was taking things.

Terry...

"I got it. I shouldn't have mentioned it in front of the kid. I'm sorry."

"Grayson!"

"Mary..." Warren took a deep breath.

"I _get_ the fact Grayson is one of your best friends, along with Wally..."

"Who?" Dick felt the word come off his tongue, turning his head to look Mary in the face yet again. She seemed even more livid than before.

"Very funny Grayson, playing coy. The joke already went too far when you accused me of, well, _that_."

"Accused you of having an affair with your husband?" His breath went in tightly, his eyes darting around looking for some kind of escape.

"Of..." Mary's voice trembled. The anger remained, yet it seemed as if he'd said something to make her cry. "You! You bully! Keep this joke up if you want, but..."

"Mary. Grayson _isn't_ joking around. He honestly doesn't know. Not anymore." Warren spoke quickly, almost standing up.

"What..." Her voice softened as Dick's eyes closed. "What do you mean?"

"He doesn't _know_ Bruce is your father."

"Warren! We _don't_ talk about that! Particularly in front of Terry! You know I want nothing..."

"Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean..." Dick felt like an idiot. To his luck, Mary backed off when Warren interfered, allowing him to sit up and lean into his arms. "Good grief, I feel stupid. He looks like Bruce because Bruce is his grandfather."

"Well, you should! You know full well that man's my father, and Selena Kyle is my mother!"

A groan escaped his lips. "You mean to tell me I was _right_ in guessing your name is actually Helena Kyle?"

"I _don't_ go by Helena anymore."

"Mary..." Warren cleared his throat. "Regarding Grayson's situation..."

"Warren, we've got our own problems."

"Just, hear me out."

"I don't want him telling that man about Terry."

"It's not as if Mr. Wayne _doesn't_ know about Terry. He simply respects your wish of no interference."

"But..."

"Look." Dick shoved his hands into his pockets. "Bruce and I aren't on talking terms, so you don't need to worry about that." He took a deep breath. "Look. I hadn't planned on interfering with your personal family drama, so if you don't mind..."

"Wait. Why aren't you and Bruce talking?" Mary sat down, preventing him from leaving. Dick took a deep breath, turning his head to the side. He found himself looking at the reflection and saw Terry peeking around Warren at him.

"Because we aren't."

"Sorry. I shouldn't have pried." Mary took a deep breath. "I'm not one to talk, considering I'm his biological child, and don't want to talk to him. I should know he gives plenty of reasons not to talk to him."

Dick frowned. "How do you know the reason's Bruce's fault and not mine?"

Her eyes blinked, her mouth forming a frown. "You? Your fault? You mean the person who happens to _be_ his favorite? Who can do no wrong?"

"See. Told you that things aren't likely the way you think they are. Just..." Warren piped up, patting the top of Terry's head, reminding Dick slightly of how Bruce took him in and patted him on the top of the head, telling him things would be okay despite the fact there was nothing okay about seeing his parents smashed into the ground below you.

"Do no wrong? You act like I'm perfect, yet I never ever lived up to his expectations." Dick took a deep breath. "Never, and I don't really _want_ to know what I did to warrant his ire. I just don't. I should really go."

Mary took a deep breath, leaning back in her seat. "Go where? Do what?"

"I'll figure something out." He took a deep breath. "It isn't as if..." He glanced over at Terry, who snuggled closer to Warren with his bat toy. "It isn't as if I'd make a good nanny."

"I don't know. You did well with Damien, which says a lot." Mary took a deep breath. "And, we're desperate, so why not?"

"Why not?" Dick found himself unable to say why, yet he found himself wondering yet again what he'd walked into.


	6. Empty, but not Completely

**Bats in the Attic  
** _ **Empty, but not Completely**_

Leaving the diner, Dick looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath as he shoved his hands into his pocket. A slight drizzle continued to fall, his vivid blue eyes taking in the grey skies, wondering what the future held in store for him. All of his worldly goods, so toa speak, were in his gym bag, but he now found himself being hired as a live-in nanny as he attempted to pick up the pieces of his memory.

"Maybe coming back to Gotham wasn't a good thing."

"Don't talk like that. And don't think about degrading yourself again." Warren took a deep breath.

"I wasn't, and I admit that was stupid. My parents would be rather displeased with what I said earlier." Dick's eyes narrowed, looking at his bike, knowing full well acting as nanny to a toddler meant using said vehicle less. An option was an option though, though truth be told he didn't recollect ever spending much time with kids. Instead, he'd always been the kid.

"Follow my car?"

"Yeah. Sure." Dick frowned, remaining completely unsure. He got onto the bike, shoving the address Warren scribbled onto paper. He watched the red-haired man help the toddler into the car, before starting up his motorcycle. The streets were slick with rain, and his feet slid easily from the ground as they took off. Looking around Gotham, he found himself thinking about every life in the dreary city, but how bleak the outlook was here.

Yet, Gotham was home, in its own strange morbid manner.

They came to an intersection when an abrupt reminder of how dark things could be hurtled through. Dick swallowed, his eyes squeezing shut as one of Gotham's villainous goons sped past, with the Batmobile making full pursuit. Robin also sped by, and for a moment it felt as if an image flashed, frozen on the back of his mind.

It seemed like Robin looked at him, and yet that couldn't be.

Warren rolled down the window as others stopped, and he peeked back. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so." Yet, for some reason he felt empty as he watched, reminded something – no – so many things were missing.

They arrived at Warren's apartment, and Dick pulled his bike into the small garage beside his friend's car. Before entering, he noted the proximity to the street, meaning the place wasn't ideal for a child to play, but what place in Gotham was. While small, the place wasn't cheap either. Letting out a sigh, he entered through the garage with Warren.

The door led to the kitchen, where Dick set down his keys. He glanced at Terry in Warren's arms and watched as the boy looked at him warily. The man set the boy down into a playpen in the living room area. "How about I show you the guest room? You can make yourself comfortable, and then we can talk more about how this works."

"Sure."

The room was simple, not that he minded. What made the manor home wasn't all the fancy accouterments of the place. Currently, there was no home, as the element which made home the place it was didn't exist, so he had to take what he got. The bag dropped onto the bed, and he turned to look at the closet.

Taking a deep breath, his mind noted the fact Mary was his type, but she was a friends ex, and Bruce's daughter, making her, it seemed, off limits.

Dick turned, heading back into the living room area. Warren sat at the counter in the kitchen. The man motioned him over, and he saw the papers on the counter. One of the papers was a newspaper, with a story regarding Batman and a villain hitting the front page as per the norm. The other papers were sheets of paper with what appeared to be a schedule of sorts, likely what Warren wanted to talk over with him.

"So..."

"Yeah. About Terry's schedule, and other things. Mary's rather particular regarding his, well, everything."

"Yet you have custody?" Dick started to sit down.

Only...

The room filled with a sudden breeze, making the papers scattered across the room. Warren's eyes widened before his jaw dropped open, his eyes turning to look at another red-haired young man who'd magically appeared. Perhaps, though, "magically" wasn't the right word, and yet Dick knew the manner in which the young man showed up _wasn't_ normal.

"Dick!"

Dick took a deep breath, knowing full well the person in question knew him, and yet he didn't recognize the person at all. He wasn't sure how to react at all and simply froze, his eyes wide. Of course, saying something seemed unapt, given his track record since returning to Gotham. Warren's face twitched as if the person showing up was a bad idea.

Before he could ask anything, particularly _how_ the person got into Warren's apparent, the person moved. Dick found himself socked in the jaw, making him fly backward off the stool he'd not yet firmly sat down in. He landed hard, his vibrant blue eyes widening in shock. One hand reached up to rub his jaw, wondering what he'd done.

Again, before he could stand up on his own or speak, the person reached down and grabbed the front of his clothes, so they could get into his face. Instinctively, Dick knew he could take the person on, but he found himself doing nothing and instead of looking at the person in shock. Warren seemed in as much shock, while Terry let out a sound from his playpen.

"How could you!" The person seemed quite upset. "How could you take off, and not keep in contact? Three years! You disappeared for three years! And I wouldn't have known had Barbara not contacted me!"

"I..." Obviously, he _knew_ the person, at least at one time.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Grayson!"

"What I have to say?" Dick wondered who the person was.

"Well? Just spit it out already!"

"I can't."

"Why not!"

"Because..." Dick took a deep breath, hearing the soft whimper of the child. "I don't think you'll like the answer. And there's a child in the room."

The person startled, his head turning to look at the playpen. He took a deep breath to calm himself down before turning back, the anger still evident in his green eyes. "I don't care if I don't like what you have to say, Dick. You _owe_ me an explanation."

"I..." He found himself looking away, at the ground, before determining it was better to face the problem head-on. "Who are you?"

"W..." The young man's facial features softened from shock.

"And how did you get in here? Appearing out of thin air?"

Two green eyes blinked before the second red-haired young man turned to look at the other. "Warren?"

"Aside Wally." Upon hearing Warren's words, he felt the young man in question let go. Before the two redheads headed off, his former college roommate said something else. "And be normal. I've got a kid after all. Dick, can you watch Terry?"

"Of course. Considering..." Glancing away, he glanced at the floor, before starting to pick up the papers. The newspaper article featuring Batman stood out, yet he shoved it away quickly, a dull ache pounding in his head. Instead, he turned to the other papers, noting the strict schedule Terry's parents had set up, but all the rules of what to do or not do. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head slightly.

"So overprotective. Of course, having parents who let me on the trapeze and high wire not much older than Terry, I may not be one to talk." He blinked, before heading over to the playpen, and kneeling beside the to look at Terry, who'd teared up from the loud noise. "Hi. How are you sport?"

The boy's bright blue eyes blinked, a hiccup escaping. Dick wasn't sure whether he should scoop the child up before he decided to gently lift up the boy. Terry pulled away, giving him Mary's death glare, indicating an objection to the strange man picking him up. "No!"

"Yeah. How about just until your dad is done talking with..." Dick turned his head, to see the two off to the side talking. The stranger remained upset, the shock starting to wear off. "... the other stranger."

He sat down on the stool while Terry attempted to get out of Dick's grip, only to find the young man holding him quite strong. Eventually, the stranger let out a sigh, before headed over, closely followed by Warren. He leaned over the counter, letting out a sigh. "Dick. I'm sorry."

"What for? I'm the one who didn't keep in contact."

"Same as always I see." The young man took a deep breath. "I'm Wally West."

"The Wally that Barbra mentioned." Dick took a deep breath, his mouth pushing together, remembering suddenly how she'd not had time to talk to him, yet had time to call this person. "She said you're my best friend."

"Yeah. We've been friends since, like, you were twelve, and I was fourteen."

"And how did you..."

"Magic!" The young man's hands went up, a quirky smile spreading across his face. "And yeah. I owe you an apology for decking you."

"Okay." Dick frowned. "Where exactly do we go from here?"

Wally took a deep breath. "Dick, are you sure you're okay with, I don't know? Playing nanny?"

"How hard can it be?"

The young man took a deep breath, looking Terry in the eye. "Yeah. Babies are actually a lot more difficult than you think. I was actually, though, referring to the fact – are you okay with not, well, making things right by Ba... well, your foster dad? Mr. Wayne, that is?"

Dick frowned. "No. I'm not okay. I don't though want to know what I did wrong. I don't want to know how I messed up."

Wally took a deep breath. "Okay. Then I won't push it. But, if you want any help getting your memories back, or just to hang out. I'm here. And... if you want any advice about kids..."

"I've got Warren for that."

"Okay, again." The young man looked at the other.

"That said..." Dick took a deep breath, pulling out the letter. "You wouldn't know anything about this? Either one of you?"

Wally opened up the letter, the color draining from his face, before showing the letter to Warren, who likewise reacted negatively. His best friend from childhood took a deep breath, handing the letter back. "Sorry, Dick. I never knew who she was, beyond the fact you had a one night stand with her, a bit before you disappeared. That, and the fact you were devastated, 'cause she broke her heart. You sure you want to go down that route?"

"I've never had luck with women?"

Wally glanced at Warren before shrugging his shoulder. "Something like that. It's kind of complicated. I mean, I could blab something and you'd have the info in your head, but that wouldn't be the same as getting your memories back, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't."

Dick watched Wally turn to Warren, watching him elbow him in the rib. "By the way. You never told me you had a kid. Helena?"

"I also didn't tell you Helena and I aren't together, so..."

Dick laughed. "I think that conversation is off limits."

Despite feeling empty, some things started to feel right.


	7. Easy, Yet---

**Bats in the Attic  
** _ **Easy, Yet…**_

The night ended with Warren bringing out a beer for everyone, yet not much conversation occurred. Instead, he found himself looking over the strict schedule Mary set up for her toddler which she expected the boy's father, or whoever was at the time in charge of child care. Dick handed Terry over to Warren and watched the tot taken off to bed.

Wally said something about him not necessarily knowing what he was getting into, yet Dick felt he would be fine. Taking care of a toddler didn't seem like such a hard thing to do, but Warren would be working from home tomorrow, having made arrangements with his boss. Watching Wally leave, Dick couldn't help see the reluctance to leave. A look of wanting to help wasn't a look of pity, yet there was that nagging feeling at the back of his head.

He found himself lying on his back, looking up the ceiling, reminding him of all the nights he slept outside. The rain pelted the windows, echoing through the room making him feel even more alone despite knowing Warren and Terry were also in the apartment. The anxiety he felt –

Taking a deep breath, Dick found himself getting up early and starting into his morning routine of exercises. The sun had yet to rise over the place, and yet he knew full well the sun rarely rose in Gotham, and instead, residents arose to find clouds greeting him.

The sound of a child waking up came from the other room, causing a sigh to escape Dick's lips. He headed over to the room he saw Warren take the toddler to. Taking a deep breath, he found Terry sitting on a toddler size bed looking at him, possibly miffed that Dick wasn't one of the parents he was looking for. Snot also dripped from his nose. Dick frowned, before scooping the child up, only to suddenly grimace. "I thought you were potty-trained?"

Terry struggled to get out of his arms, ignoring the question. His stuffed bat fell to the floor, and Dick carefully nudged the toy over to the edge of the bed, so nobody would trip on the item. He set the boy down, allowing Terry to escape through the open door. With a quick flick, the sheets came off, and he headed into the living room area. He found Terry over on the couch. "Say? You don't know where the laundry is, do you?"

The boy turned, allowing Dick to see the child slobbering on his hand. Terry's bright blue eyes blinked, before walking over and holding his drool covered hand. Dick swallowed, before taking Terry's hand. The child tugged, leading him to the small side room before taking off. Dick wiped his hand off on his pants before dumping the sheets into the machine.

The machine roared to life, reminding Dick of the times he sat on the dryer watching Alfred do the laundry, but how the man told him the rules to follow regarding different materials. The things the man drilled into his head – Dick shook his head. Memory wise, it felt as if he'd spent more time with Alfred than his foster father.

It also felt like he was forgetting something.

Specifically, upon arriving in the living room, he found Terry attempting to climb up onto the back of the couch. Dick sighed, hurrying over to scoop the toddler up, watching as Terry attempted to latch onto the couch's cloth material. He'd certainly not forgotten about his charge, but he had forgotten the fact Terry's clothes needed changing.

The toddler struggled to get lose but started yelling, which of course woke Warren up.

Warren stepped out of the room, rubbing his eyes. "You're both up already?"

Dick attempted to transfer Terry slightly to get a better grip on the boy. "Yup. I'm always up this early. I don't know about him, though."

"Mary doesn't' let him out of bed until eight in the morning, but it's only six."

"He's wet. I already put the sheets in the wash, but he doesn't seem to like me much."

The red-haired man sighed, before heading over to scoop Terry out of Dick's arms. "I'll see to it that he gets changed."

Dick took a deep breath, heading over to the counter and looking at the schedule. He frowned, still not understanding the method behind Mary's list. Terry was supposed to sleep from eight to eight, giving Terry twelve hours of sleep, but he also only had a single nap every single day. Each meal had specific times. This differed from what he remembered of his own childhood.

"Something the matter."

"I'm not sure, beyond the fact this is rather different than what I remember from my childhood."

"How so?"

"Well, I don't think my parents _ever_ made me sleep for twelve hours straight, until I was four I had a couple of naps each day, not just one. I was still taking naps before becoming Bruce's ward, but I think that had more to do with my activity level, and it wasn't a very long one. I also ate when I was hungry."

Warren took a deep breath. "You and I aren't experts on toddlers."

"Is Mary?"

A laugh escaped his friend's mouth. "Well, no. I don't know what I'm going to do with Terry, as he's usually not up to this early, and I need to get to my work."

"Don't worry. I can keep him occupied until breakfast time."

"Yes, well, I'll start with our breakfast." Warren took a deep breath. "Anything you want specifically?"

"Not really." Dick found Terry placed in his arms but saw the pout forming on the boy's face. He sat down at the counter with Terry propped on his lap. The toddler attempted to struggle, yet Dick held on easily. The smell of food filled the room, and Terry's nose began to wiggle, but his stomach grumbled. "Should I feed him?"

"Before Mary's schedule?"

"He seems hungry."

"There's baby food in the cupboard."

Dick lifted Terry up and placed him into the highchair, which made the child glare at him again. Pulling up the stool, and opening the jar – the smell made him want to vomit, but he also wondered how a child would eat said food. Dick found his answer upon Terry spitting the food out. The toddler started to laugh when he winced. "I don't think he likes it. Your wife makes him eat this?"

"Ex-wife. Remember?"

"Gotcha." Dick took a deep breath, wiping the food away. "She has better luck?"

"Nope. Not really. She sees it less as him not liking the food, and more of him simply being a toddler."

"Ah." Dick narrowed his eyes, glaring back at the toddler, attempting to make his glare just as fierce. The look resulted in a laugh from the boy, which made Dick frown, rubbing the back of his neck as Terry returned to glaring at him. "Okay. I'm not sure if he hates me or not."

"The two of you just met, so give him some time."

"Yeah, well, it was your idea that I play nanny, remember?"

Warren shook his head, continuing to cook the breakfast and make the coffee. Dick turned back to Terry and watched the toddler's mouth open and close as if wanting to eat the food in front of him. "What's wrong with him having the same breakfast as us?"

"Nothing, I guess. He is after all old enough to eat solid foods. Smaller portions as well, I guess. And cooled off slightly."

Dick continued to watch the child, and the child continued to watch him. For some reason staring was amusing, particularly since the toddler seemed quite perturbed regarding the stranger in front of him. He didn't make a noise until Warren motioned for Dick's attention. "So, pretty much this is the portion size for a toddler."

"Small, but he's smaller." Dick watched carefully, watching Warren set the plate of food to cool a little while handing his friend a plate. Taking a drink of coffee, he watched Terry's eyes go wide looking at the plate. "Are you sure about this? I know we knew each other – college roommates and all, but that's kind of..."

"Do you feel like you're still the same person, even though parts are missing?"

"I don't know. I didn't feel different before. Simply as if something was missing. Finding out it's my memories actually makes sense, I guess." He munched on his food, watching Terry's wide eyes before moving to give the child the plate of food. His own eyes widened upon hearing the smacking of lips before watching the toddler reach out for the scrambled eggs, squeezing them through his fingers.

A shudder ran down his spine as he watched Terry drop the eggs, then pick it up and squeeze again. Warren noticed. "Don't worry. That's supposed to happen."

Dick shook his head, watching the child eat, but also make a mess as he explored the various breakfast foods. When Terry finished, Dick scooped up the child, getting food all over himself before proceeding to pull wipes from the diaper bag to remove the nasty mess from the toddler. He sat down in front of the playpen and found himself yet again having a staring contest with the toddler, while Warren went to work at the counter.

So far, easy, but also boring.


End file.
